


interruptions

by ladydetective



Category: Book of the Ancestor Series - Mark Lawrence
Genre: 5 Times, F/F, Fluff and Humor, Light Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-09
Updated: 2020-12-09
Packaged: 2021-03-10 06:35:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,833
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27966170
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladydetective/pseuds/ladydetective
Summary: 5 times Apple and Kettle are interrupted + 1 time they aren’t(Or, why everyone in the convent knows about them)
Relationships: Sister Apple/Sister Kettle (Book of the Ancestor)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 8





	interruptions

**Author's Note:**

> this was my attempt at writing a light and fluffy piece and it wound up being nearly 7k long. oops. this is mostly compliant with my other fics - apple lives, lily exists etc. 
> 
> a note on the timings of different scenes - scene 1 is pre-canon, shortly after they first got together. scene 2 is set during red sister, BEFORE kettle was pushing into the shadow. scene 3 is set just before holy sister. scene 4 is set post-canon, after together or not at all. during more than just surviving, basically. scene 5 is set after almost like a fairytale, lily is about 2 and a half. scene six is a few weeks after that. 
> 
> you don't have to have read my other fics for this, just for people who are interested!! enjoy.

_i) in which we discover the reason why Bhenta is always the one to let them into shade lessons_

“So,” said Kettle, with an easy smile, “what is it you wanted me to do?” 

Apple smiled back. “I need some help laying traps. I’ve been covering the basics with Mystic Class, but I don’t think my point about concealment has really sunk in. I think a practical demonstration is in order, don’t you?”

Kettle rolled her eyes fondly, though she couldn’t help the stab of disappointment she felt. She and Apple had been together for several months now, meeting covertly so as not to incite the wrath of Sister Wheel. She’d hoped that, when Apple had summoned her to the Shade Caverns, it was for another such rendezvous. Still - whatever moments they could snatch together were worth it. “Naturally. Couldn’t have a novice get through a Shade lesson without at least the threat of physical dismemberment. Wouldn’t be half as fun.”

Apple nodded contentedly, her eyes shining. “Now you’re getting it. Besides - they won’t make the same mistake twice.”

They set about their work, enjoying one another’s silent company. It was a simple task, really, if a little repetitive. _Hm_ , Kettle thought idly, _what if I spice it up a bit?_ She made a show of deliberately fumbling with the final wire, then cursed loudly as it made contact with her skin. Blood emerged from the shallow cut on her finger.

Apple quirked an eyebrow. “Really, Kettle?I thought you knew how to set these… maybe the novices weren’t the only ones who needed a reminder.” Her tone was light, but had an edge to it that approached the firm voice she used with students.

_Oh, she’s really walking into this one_ … Kettle pouted, adopting a faux look of contrition. “Deepest apologies, Mistress Shade.”

Apple’s cheeks reddened and she looked away. “Yes, well… just set the next ones right. I happen to be very fond of your fingers. Wouldn’t want anything to happen to them.”

Kettle grinned, catlike, and watched as the other woman realised her mistake. “But, Mistress Shade, aren’t you going to punish me? I’ve made a very stupid mistake…”

Apple tried to look stern for all of two counts, before relenting and matching Kettle’s smile. She glanced to the door, as if performing mental mathematics. “You’re right, of course,” she said, deliberately using her teacher voice, “Get on my desk. I have a very specific punishment in mind for you.” She broke character for a second, adding, “We’ve got five minutes.”

Kettle didn’t need telling twice. She pulled her lover’s hand, moving her over to the desk. Apple giggled as if _she_ were a novice. She ran a hand over a stray lock of red hair that had - once again - managed to escape her veil. “I missed you,” Kettle said, softly, and kissed her. 

“We saw each other last night,” Apple murmured against her lips.

“Doesn’t matter,” responded Kettle, “Still missed you.”

It didn’t take long for them to get completely, utterly _lost_ in one another. They lost all conception of time - which was, on the whole, rather unfortunate given there was a class of novices due to arrive any moment - but in that instant, neither of them cared. It was as if they were both stranded at sea, and the other’s lips were an anchor. 

They were brought back to reality by a dull clattering sound. They pulled away, only to be greeted by the sight of a dozen novices staring at them in shock. Some of them were open-mouthed, others fighting a desperate urge to laugh. Kettle was dimly aware that Apple’s veil had entirely fallen away, whereas her own habit had hitched up dangerously high. 

“Out!” Apple commanded, furiously attempted to emerge from this with her dignity intact, “You do not enter this classroom without my express invitation!” Kettle hopped down from the desk and attempted to smooth out her skirts, aiming for nonchalance. 

“But…” said one novice, confused. “The door was open, and we have class now.” She admired the girl’s bravery. Pity she’d likely spend the next week at least in the sanatorium after Apple had finished with her. Judging by the looks of her classmates, who were edging away from the girl so as not to be harmed by association, they thought so too. 

“And you wait outside!” said Apple acerbically. The effect was lost somewhat as her flaming hair tumbled down her shoulders, free from its regular cage. Kettle desperately wanted to run her hands through it, but she had enough sense to realise that now was _not the time_. 

The novices raced out so as not to invoke further ire. Apple turned to Kettle, mortification replacing the fury in her expression. “What are we going to do? The whole Convent will be talking about us come morning.”

“That’s optimistic. Likely, we’ll be the topics on everyone’s mouths at dinner.”

Apple swatted her arm. “How can you be so calm about this?”

“Because there’s nothing we can do! Short of mortally poison everyone in Mystic class -” 

Her lover seemed to give this idea some consideration. Kettle narrowed her eyes. “Don’t even _think_ about it! This is a Convent and they’re teenagers - they need something to gossip about. They’ll be onto something else by next week. Just let the gossip run its course.”

Apple moaned and fell into Kettle’s outstretched arms. “Wheel’s going to _kill_ us.”

“Maybe so, but she already hates you and strongly dislikes me anyway. The old woman _loves_ to have someone to preach at. And besides - I think we can take her.”

Apple laughed shakily. “I wouldn’t be too sure. She wields shame like a weapon. But thank you,” she said, her voice softening, “You always know exactly how to calm me down.”

Kettle pressed another kiss to her lover’s lips - quicker than the one that had gotten them into this mess, but every bit as heartfelt. She picked up Apple’s discarded veil and put it back on her, tucking in the stray pieces of hair that always managed to fall loose. “Any time. Now go on - you have a class to teach - try not to be _too_ hard on them.”

“I make no promises,” Apple muttered darkly. 

* * *

_ii) in which relief leads to an indiscretion_

Kettle was late. This in itself was not a cause for concern - Grey missions could be unpredictable, and their parameters could shift in an instant, occasionally making it impossible to return at the scheduled time. But the other woman always, _always_ checked in over their shadow-bond. Apple had bonds with a number of her Sisters of Discretion, but none of them were as strong as the one she shared with Kettle. A thousand miles wouldn’t matter. Normally, even if very far away, she’d send at least a pulse through their connection. Apple hadn’t heard anything from her in days. 

Worse, when she tried to reach out herself - a distinct breach in the way they usually operated - she received only a terrifying silence in response. 

Rationally, she knew what that silence meant - she’d been bonded to Sisters who’d died in the field before - but her heart refused to even entertain the notion. Kettle was _not_ dead. There _had_ to be some other explanation. 

Worry was threatening to consume her. Most of the Convent knew to give her a wide berth whenever Kettle was away, but this time it was particularly bad. She doled out punishments to Novices that were harsh even by her standards. She skipped meals in favour of staying in her laboratory in a bid to distract herself with work. She picked fights with Wheel at the Convent table for no good reason. Things became so dire that Tallow offered to spar with her in order to relieve some of her tension. Getting her ass handed to her by Mistress Blade did at least offer a moment of distraction, but now she was worried _and_ covered in bruises. 

Her brooding was interrupted by the sound of the door crashing open. Apple turned to face the next unfortunate victim of her temper - _really_ , people knew she didn’t like to be barged in on at the best of times - only to be met with the sight of a very winded Bhenta. 

“Kettle’s back,” her normally pale apprentice panted, “She was seen by our guards. She’s giving her report to the Abbess now.”

Relief flooded her system, so great the weight of it nearly bowled her over. Tears stung at the corner of her eyes, but she refused to let them fall. Bhenta was her apprentice, after all - she must at least _try_ to maintain her professional dignity. “Thank the Ancestor,” she exclaimed, before looking back up at Bhenta. “Was she injured?”

The young woman shrugged. “Not as far as we could tell, but we didn’t get a good look at her. I came straight to you.”

Apple nodded. “Thank you. But if you’ll excuse me - I really must go and see her.”

She tore through the Convent at a speed a hunska would be impressed with. She didn’t have an ounce of the blood herself - she was a marjal prime with a touch of quantal - but making sure that Kettle was alright proved a strong motivator. 

She arrived at the Abbess’s house without delay, pausing at the door. This wasn’t the way things were usually done - all Grey Sisters, Kettle included, reported first to the Abbess before giving a longer, more detailed one to her. Still, under the circumstances… Glass would likely forgive her. Besides, she didn’t care all that much about Convent rules at the current moment.

She opened the door without a further thought. Kettle was sitting at a round table in the centre of the room, head in her hands. Abbess Glass was nowhere in sight. She looked shaken up and was certainly distressed about something, but Apple could see no sign of physical injury.

She looked up at the sound of the door. “Appy,” she breathed, a ghost of a smile gracing her features. “ _Ancestor_ , am I glad to see you.”

Apple closed the distance between them and wrapped her arms around Kettle in a firm embrace. Her lover responded in kind, almost sagging against her. After days of not knowing whether or not the other woman was even alive, Apple allowed herself a moment to soak in her presence. The relief she felt was almost too great to bear.

She pressed a kiss to Kettle’s forehead. “I thought you were _dead_. When you didn’t check-in, w-when you didn’t answer me - I thought something had happened.” Her voice shook with emotion.

Kettle pulled away and crossed her arms over herself in an almost self conscious manner. For a second Apple mourned the loss of contact, but worry for the other woman quickly took over. “Something _did_ happen. The mark’s dead. But it wasn’t easy - he had a guard that we didn’t know about. He… did something to me, I don’t know if it was some kind of marjal trick I’d never heard of before or a strange new technology, but it stripped me of my powers.” She pulled up the left sleeve of her habit, revealing an ugly mark beneath. “I was able to kill him without them, but it was… close. I’ve never had to kill someone without my speed before, and I couldn’t shadow-weave on my way out. They’ve still not come back - I wasn’t even able to reach through the shadow bond to contact you.”

Apple examined the mark on Kettle’s arm, frowning. It looked like some kind of brand, the type a blacksmith would use. The design was almost like that of a sigil, but it did not glow with a tell-tale infusion of magic. Besides - sigils were engraved into objects, not a person’s _skin_. “How did he manage to get this on you?”

“He was very skilled - I was barely a match for him. He feinted left before grabbing my right arm and branding it with that thing. I didn’t really realise what he was doing until it was too late - I used the opportunity when he appeared distracted to stab him, but then my arm started burning and suddenly I couldn’t use my powers. I’d already done enough damage to finish him off even as disoriented as I was, but I felt - empty. I still feel empty. What if they don’t come back, Appy?” 

Her voice belied a note of vulnerability that made Apple’s heart ache. Kettle was normally so strong, so put together… she compartmentalised the awful things she needed to do on missions so well that she didn’t let it affect her when she was at home. They spoke about it in private, sometimes - Apple would hold her when the nightmares got too much - but even then, she’d seldom seen her so afraid. She took her hand and squeezed it, trying to infuse as much comfort as she could into the gesture. 

“We’ll find a way to get them back, I promise,” she said, and resumed her examination of the mark. A memory tickled at the back of her mind. “I think I’ve read of something like this - some Academy article. I’ll admit I didn’t pay much attention to it - it didn’t really seem feasible - but we can start there. Besides, there are a number of scholars who owe me a favour - one of them _has_ to know something.”

Kettle exhaled, visibly relieved. “It’s good to hear that. And I’m _so_ happy to see you - I didn’t realise how reliant I was on the bond to make sure you were alright until it was gone. Rationally, I knew I couldn’t feel you because my powers were gone, but still - I worried.”

Apple closed the remaining distance between them and wrapped her arms around her lover once more. _This_ was something she could empathise with. “I was at the Convent the entire time. You know there was nothing to worry about, right?”

Kettle nestled herself further against her, brushing their foreheads together. “I never said it was a sensible emotion. Besides, this is hardly the most safe place in Abeth.”

Apple smiled softly, trying to inject some humour into the situation. “Mmmm, you’re right. Who knows when Wheel will snap and finish me off for good.”

Kettle laughed lightly. Apple’s own spirits buoyed at the sound. “She’ll have to get through me first.”

Their lips met. It was a tender embrace at first, borne from a desire to comfort - but soon enough the tension they’d both been feeling after over a week away from one another rose to the surface and it became increasingly passionate. A low moan escaped Kettle’s throat. Neither one of them could say how long they remained like that - it could have been seconds, minutes or hours. 

The sound of a cough caused them both to spring apart. Abbess Glass stood in the entryway, arms crossed, a long-suffering frown on her face. Neither Apple nor Kettle had heard her come in. 

“I believe both of you have been warned about such public displays of affection before, a number of times. In a way, you’re lucky it was me who caught you - Wheel is due to meet me here in a matter of minutes. Apple, dear, care to explain what exactly you’re doing here? I don’t recall requesting your presence.”

Apple’s cheeks flushed red as the fruit she’d named herself for. _Ancestor_ , how did this keep happening to them? “I was, um, receiving Kettle’s report. She was late back and I was worried.” She prided herself on her ability to lie and manipulate the truth, but whenever her relationship with Kettle was involved, she became as inept as a Red Class novice trying to convince her that they hadn’t cheated on an exam. 

Glass’s eyebrows shot up. “Really? None of us had noticed,” she said, dryly. She turned to Kettle. “Sister, I’m glad you’ve been restored to us unharmed - or mostly, at any rate. No doubt you’ve informed Mistress Shade of your ailment - if the two of you stopped for air, that is - and she is best posed to help you, unless you think Sister Rose is better suited. I’d like a written report of the mission by lunch tomorrow. Now, if you’d both excuse me - I need to meet with Sister Wheel. No doubt you’d like to finish… _giving your report_ … in the privacy of the Shade Caverns. 

* * *

_iii) in which there is a truce, of sorts_

Tensions were rising in Abeth. The ice was pressing ever further inward, Durnish raids were becoming more and more frequent, and the threat of the Scithrowl was looming larger than ever under the leadership of their battle-queen. War was coming. Sweet Mercy’s Sisters of Discretion were busier than ever, and Kettle - as the best and brightest of them - was busiest of all. 

She was seldom not on an active mission. Apple was more or less resigned to this - at such a difficult time, she needed her most reliable Greys in the field. Kettle possessed skills and experience that some of the others could only dream of. But still, she felt her absence keenly. 

She felt it at the increasingly fraught convent table, when another junior sister would take the minutes. She felt it at mealtimes, where her usual seat was conspicuously empty. She felt it in their bed, which was cold and too big without her. Most of all, though - she felt it in the absence of her laughter. Kettle had a beautiful laugh, and Apple loved drawing it out of her. 

Still, the periods of separation would be easier to bear if only they could spend some time together whenever Kettle was at home, but Wheel was making that _impossible_. The power of the old woman’s new position had gone to her head, and she was using it to punish the two people whose relationship she had never approved of. Whenever Apple and Kettle tried to snatch a moment alone together, Wheel - or one of her cronies - would appear and assign them both some Essential Tasks that needed to be completed, usually at opposite ends of the Convent. 

It was maddening - they were both adults (Apple was now closer to forty than thirty, Kettle only a few years behind) and yet Wheel was treating them like misbehaving novices. 

Worse, the restrictions were forcing them to actually _act_ like novices. The past couple evenings, both she and Kettle had stuffed the bunks in their respective cells to make it look like they were sleeping there whilst they snuck off to Apple’s quarters in the Shade Caverns. They’d also had to come up with more and more creative places to meet during the day - Wheel kept too close an eye on their regular haunts. 

Which was how Apple found herself making her way to the Dome of the Ancestor shortly after Bray sounded for lunch. She’d had a long morning full of classes - students were becoming increasingly anxious about the current political situation, and it had the unfortunate consequence of a lot of poison-related mishaps. She wanted nothing more now than to spend an hour in the company of her lover. 

“And _where_ ,” said a stern voice from somewhere behind her, “do you think you’re going, Mistress Shade? Lunch is being served in the refectory.” 

Wheel. Apple _wished_ she was surprised. She forced a polite smile onto her face while - just barely - resisting the urge to throttle the other woman. It was at times like this she thanked the Ancestor for her Shade training. “Abbess Wheel. How wonderful to see you. I did not find myself hungry for food today - it is spiritual nourishment I require. I thought to spend my lunch hour in quiet prayer and contemplation. Surely a woman as devout as you can understand the urge?” 

Wheel’s eyes narrowed with suspicion. Apple rarely spent a voluntary hour in the Dome of the Ancestor if she could help it - she was religious in her own way, but didn’t take any particular satisfaction from formal displays - and the former Mistress Spirit was fully aware of that fact. Still - it would be the height of hypocrisy for her to turn away someone who claimed to be seeking spiritual fulfilment. 

“Fine,” she relented, expression still stern. “But if I find you’ve been cavorting with that wraith when I’ve chosen to place my trust in you - you’ll be sorry.”

Apple’s blood boiled at the other woman’s word choice - Kettle was _not_ a wraith - but she just barely managed to keep her temper in check. She offered the older woman a curt nod before making her way inside. 

The plan was for Kettle to sneak in once the coast was clear. Apple went to sit and wait for her to arrive, but a curious sound originating from the back of the church piqued her interest. She moved to investigate. The source of the disturbance became clear almost immediately - two novices, locked in a passionate embrace. Various articles of clothing were strewn across the floor. 

Neither of them noticed her approach. Apple took a moment to revel in being the interrupter rather than the interruptee for a change, before clearing her throat loudly. The two novices sprung apart, identical - and deeply familiar - looks of mortification adorning their faces. She gave them a moment to get dressed before saying anything further. 

“M-Mistress Shade,” stuttered Alata, clearly searching for an excuse, “we were just-”

“Yes,” said Apple, “I do believe I know what you were doing.”

They both stared at their feet, abashed. Clearly, they believed they were about to be expelled. She’d known them both for almost ten years now - they were bright girls, if somewhat prone to indiscretions. It would be more than a little hypocritical of her to fault them for that. “Go on, clear on out of here before I change my mind. And be more careful next time - I’ve trained you girls to be discrete. Use it.”

They didn’t need telling twice. Apple almost felt bad for interrupting them, but she had her own needs to attend to. There was also something distinctly _embarrassing_ about being reduced to using the same rendezvous spots as novices. 

“It was good of you not to punish them,” Kettle materialised somewhere behind her, wrapping her arms around her waist and resting her head on her shoulder. Apple fell back into the embrace. 

“I couldn’t exactly punish them when we plan on doing more or less the same thing.” She tilted her head to the side, capturing Kettle’s lips with her own. 

Kettle responded to the kiss enthusiastically for a few moments, but then pulled away. “I’m glad,” she said, though she looked a little sheepish. “Listen - I know this was my idea, but I’m not sure I’m comfortable having sex with you in the Dome of the Ancestor. It - feels like a defilement. I’m sorry.”

She should have foreseen this. People didn’t always realise it because she spent the better part of her time with Sisters who were less than devout, but Kettle was, in her own way, every bit as pious as Abbess Wheel. She genuinely believed in the tenets of the Ancestor’s faith and had a healthy respect for its institutions - she was just less forceful about it. 

She turned around to face her lover. The other woman seemed genuinely apologetic. “Kettle, it’s fine. I wanted to spend time with you, more than anything else. I’ve missed you.”

Kettle hugged her again. “I’ve missed you too - it gets so lonely out there. I spend every moment I’m not thinking about the mission wishing I was back here with you.”

They talked with one another for near-on an hour, about everything and nothing. They’d needed this - it was a welcome reprieve from the stress their jobs were providing. Once the bell rang to signal the end of lunch, however, they knew they should begin making their escape. 

“This was nice,” Kettle said, softly. She leaned in. “And tonight, I’m going to make sure you know exactly how _grateful_ I was for your understanding.”

She kissed her. As far as their embraces went, it was fairly tame - intended as a gesture of farewell rather than any kind of initiation. 

It was not a distinction Abbess Wheel cared about. “HARLOTS!” she roared, opening the door to the Dome with a dramatic flourish. “BLASPHEMERS! WHORES! DISGRACES TO THE ANCESTOR! I WILL HAVE YOU THROWN FROM THE CONVENT FOR THIS, MARK MY WORDS.”

They broke apart in a hurry. The old woman was certainly in form - they really were in trouble now. Apple bit her lip, considering her options. She _could_ just keep quiet, take it on the chin. She’d been forced to do so frequently in the long months since Abbess Glass’s death - Wheel had never liked her, not since she was a novice, and she liked her relationship with Kettle even less. Apple’s position was not as secure as it was under Glass - no doubt Wheel would delight in replacing her, and she’d likely banish Kettle for good measure. She’d wanted to ever since she’d been pushed into the Shadow. Yes, Apple _should_ hold her tongue. 

But Wheel just made her so _angry_. She grabbed onto Kettle’s hand, making her decision. Her lover offered her a worried yet curious look, and said nothing. 

She wasn’t going to stand for this any longer.

“Except,” she snapped, voice severe, “You can’t _do_ that. The Ancestor forbids only relations that will add another branch to His Tree. Kettle and I are hardly in a position to do that. We didn’t do anything wrong.”

Wheel was almost apoplectic with rage. The vein in her forehead looked ready to burst. “You were FORNICATING in the Dome of the Ancestor, a Holy place! It is blasphemy! It is sacrilege!”

“We weren’t,” she said through her teeth, “we were only talking, because you won’t let us do that anywhere else.”

Wheel opened her mouth to argue, but Apple cut her off. “And _yes_ , we kissed, but what you saw was the extent of it. Kettle didn’t feel comfortable doing more in a sacred place.”

The Abbess harrumphs. “Well, at least _one of you_ has a shred of moral decency.”

Apple sighs. “Yes, Kettle’s better than me. I’ve never pretended otherwise.” The woman in question shot her a startled look. “But I love her more than anything in Abeth - anything in the universe - and I’m never going to stop. It’s been more than ten years - isn’t it time you came around?”

Kettle squeezed her hand softly, then opened her mouth to speak. “You once taught us that love was the Ancestor’s most precious gift, and it is infinite. Does that not also apply to us?”

Something truly miraculous happened then - something neither Apple nor Kettle had expected. Wheel sighed - a deep, bone-weary sigh - and relented. “Fine,” she said, closing her eyes, “Fine. Do what you will. Fornicate to your heart’s content. Let the final judgement be between you and the Ancestor. I no longer have the energy to stop you.”

It was only then that they noticed how tired the other woman looked - sapped of her righteous fury, there was little left to animate her. The upcoming war was taking its toll on everyone - perhaps on no one more than the woman tasked with keeping them all together. They didn’t know what to say in response to this - it was the victory they’d been waiting years for, but it felt hollow, somehow. 

Wheel turned to leave. Just as she was at the door, Apple opened her mouth. “Abbess - I’ll have the reports that you asked for on your desk by tomorrow morning.”

The old woman almost smiled. “Thank you, Mistress Shade.”

The door closed. Apple and Kettle turned to look at one another, incredulous. “What just _happened?”_ asked Kettle. 

“I think it’s a truce. It’s strange, after all these years. I didn’t think she’d ever come around.”

Kettle nodded, her face softening. “Me neither. Thank you for saying those things to her - and I hope you know that it goes both ways. I love you more than anything in the world, too.”

Apple smiled, and caressed her lover’s face. “I had an inkling, yes. I have a class to teach, but I’ll see you tonight?”

“Count on it. Maybe we’ll even be able to get away without stuffing our bunks like novices. But don’t think I’ve forgotten about that ‘better than me’ comment - we’ll talk about it later.”

* * *

_iv) in which questions are asked and answered, although not in the way nona expected_

Nona made her way towards Sister Apple’s quarters in the Shade Caverns. Even a few months ago, this would have raised eyebrows - the other woman had been her teacher, after all, they’d hardly been on social terms - but ever since the battle at Verity, the newly-anointed nun was a regular visitor. Apple’s injury had been severe - there had been moments where it looked like she may not pull through. She was doing okay now, though - the recovery was a long one, and she was still mostly on bed rest - but things were looking up. Nona was glad of this - she’d lost too many friends, and it was a relief to not count Apple amongst that number. 

Things had been a little awkward between them, at first - their conversations were stilted and formal, and they struggled to break out of the teacher/student mold. Apple had a tendency to lecture, and Nona frequently found herself checking and double checking every nearby surface for traces of poison. It had taken her _weeks_ to be comfortable eating or drinking anything in her company. 

Still, though - they both tried. Nona loved Kettle - she was the closest thing she had to a true sister, and she wanted to get to know the woman who meant so much to her. She’d hazard a guess that Apple had similar motivations.

It took a few tries, but the two of them built an easy rhythm. Her former teacher possessed a wicked sense of humour and was full of really interesting stories about old Grey missions. She also offered some pretty useful advice about teaching, given that Nona was currently muddling her way through giving her first Blade lessons. For her own part, Nona did her best to keep Apple up-to-date on Convent gossip. She’d never really been the one to go to for this, in the past - it was very much Ruli’s area of expertise - but she could tell that the prolonged confinement was starting to really bother the other woman and she wanted to do what she could to take her mind off it. 

Nona considered her a friend in her own right, now - and she didn’t take any of her friendships lightly. 

There was a specific matter she wanted to discuss with her today. She didn’t have much experience with long-term romantic relationships - her father had died when she was still a Little, so she’d never really gotten to see him and her mother together when she was old enough to understand what a marriage really was. There weren’t many examples in her life after that - living in the Caltess and then the Convent didn’t really provide much opportunity - _except_ for Apple and Kettle. The two of them had been together for at least fifteen years at this point, and they were still as in love with one another as ever. 

Things between her and Regol hadn’t worked out. Now she and Ara… it was all very new and exciting. Nona loved her, a lot, and she’d never _dreamed_ that the Golden Sis girl would ever feel the same way - except, somehow, she did. Nona didn’t want to do anything to mess it all up - so she was going to gather up her courage and ask Apple for advice. 

Nona’s head was so full of Ara that she wasn’t really paying attention to where she was going or what she was doing. If she had been, by the time she reached the door to Apple’s quarters she may have recognised the familiar sounds coming from within and reconsidered entering. This was not the case. Mind occupied with thoughts of a certain golden-haired Sister, she pushed open the door without thinking. 

The sight before her was not something she’d been prepared to see. Kettle was on top of Apple, entirely naked. The other woman was likewise bare, though her heavy bandages at least offered a modicum of cover. Both were in the throes of ecstasy, moaning passionately. Nona was reminded of the first time she’d heard them in such a position - she hadn’t understood how sex could make two people sound like that then. She did now.

She was frozen - what did she do here? Neither one of them had noticed her come in - they were too wrapped up in one another. Did she just leave? Pretend she never saw this? Did she make some kind of sound, alerting them to her presence? The first option sounded most appealing - it would save the three of them the awkwardness of ever having to talk about this again.

Making up her mind, Nona turned to leave the way she came from - but, in her haste, she tripped over a nearby table. She righted herself, but several items that had been on the table tumbled to the ground. 

_This_ was enough to pull their attention. They sprang apart, scrambling for their clothes - or, more accurately, Kettle scrambled for her habit while Apple pulled the bed covers up to conceal herself. She was still not agile enough to dress herself in a hurry - although _apparently_ she was well enough for sex.

“Nona,” gasped Kettle, face flushed. “What are you _doing_ here?”

“Does _anyone_ at this Ancestor-forsaken convent know how to knock???” moaned Apple, head in her hands.

“I, uh,” stuttered Nona, heat rising within her, “I was coming to visit you. I had some questions.” She stared intently at her feet, not wanting to look the two women in the eyes. 

Apple sighed. “At least you only smashed whatever was on that table over this time, instead of my classroom.” Her eyes narrowed with suspicion. “You didn’t smash my classroom, did you?”

Nona flushed almost as red as Kettle, who was still struggling to do up the clasps on her habit. “N-no. Haven’t been near it.”

“Good,” she said. It looked like she was making a valiant attempt to forget the past few minutes had ever happened. Then again - so many people had caught them in compromising positions over the past few years, maybe she was simply used to it. “What was it you wanted to ask me?”

“You know what - it can wait. I’ll come see you again tomorrow - I’ll be around after my class.”

“Knock next time,” said Apple, re-adjusting the covers. 

“Oh, don’t worry,” said Nona, as she made a break for the door. “I will.” She didn’t think she’d ever set foot in this room again without double or triple checking it was safe to enter. 

Still, though - it did at least partially answer some of the questions she had about Ara.

* * *

_v) in which parenting gets in the way_

Apple and Kettle were alone in the Shade caverns, a decanter of Sweet Mercy Red on the table between them. This was Kettle’s favourite part of the day - sitting back and enjoying a few moments alone with the woman she loved. Of course, they were fewer and further between these days - raising a child together tended to cut in to the quality time you spent with your significant other.

Lily was (hopefully) down for the night. A couple of weeks ago, they cleared out an adjacent room for her - it had once been a backup store-cupboard, but they’d done it up quite nicely. There was a child-size bed in it, and some Novices decorated the walls with some cute paintings. They were trying to train Lily to sleep there at night - it was going well enough, and it afforded the two of them more privacy. They loved their little girl to the ends of the earth, but running round after her all day on top of their regular workload put a bit of a dampener on their alone time. 

Kettle was planning on taking full advantage of this privacy tonight. She drained her glass and shot Apple what she hoped was a winning smile. “You’re looking particularly lovely this evening.”

Apple chuckled. “I’m really not. I spent the afternoon teaching Red Class novices about kalewort. The smell lingers. Then Lily threw up on me - I don’t think one bath was enough to cleanse it all.”

Kettle pouted. “You went to the bathhouse without me?”

“Did you miss what I said about kalewort and toddler vomit? Trust me, it would not have been a fun time.”

“Doesn’t matter, you’re always beautiful to me.”

Apple’s smile widened. “And you’re a flatterer.”

“......Is it working?” 

She moved in closer, pressing a soft kiss to Kettle’s lips. “What do you think?”

Soon enough, neither of them were wearing clothes. They were once again lost in one another, immune to everything but the sensation of flesh meeting flesh. They’d always had a physical relationship, and sex was an important part of the way they expressed their feelings for one another. 

A knock sounded at the door. Were it anyone else, they would have ignored it but the knocking was accompanied by a familiar and frightened little voice. “Mama?”

Lily. She sounded tearful. Cursing, they pulled away from one another and hurriedly put their nightgowns back on. Kettle rushed over to the door and opened it, revealing their daughter. Her eyes were red and blotchy from crying, and she held on tightly to her little teddy bear. She picked her up.

“What’s the matter, little one?” Apple asked, running a reassuring finger down Lily’s cheek. The toddler buried her face into the crook of Kettle’s neck. 

“Bad dream,” she muttered. 

Mourning the sex that Kettle now knew was not going to take place, she settled Lily down onto the bed. “Do you want to sleep here tonight?”

The little girl nodded, making herself comfortable underneath the covers. Apple murmured comforting nonsense to her. She soon fell back to sleep, a contented expression on her face as she lay between her mothers. Kettle slid her hand into Apple’s. They never imagined that this would be their life - but she couldn’t say she regretted it.

As she lay there with her lover, their daughter nestled safely between them, Kettle thought, 

_yeah. Maybe this wasn’t the worst option._

* * *

_vi) in which there’s an anniversary, and they finally take precautions_

Eighteen years. Today, they’d been together for _eighteen years_. Since they weren’t technically married - although, for all intents and purposes, they considered themselves to be - they counted the day they first kissed as their official anniversary. They’d been so young then - Kettle had only just taken the Grey after passing the trials and graduating Holy Class, and Apple was a scant couple of years older. They’d been on a mission together - the tension had gotten to them, and they wound up celebrating their victory with a kiss. 

Neither of them had looked back since. 

They’d both gone through so much since that day - came so close to losing one another so many times. Apple still remembered the dread she felt when she walked into that clearing more than ten years ago and believed Kettle to be dead. It wasn’t something that would ever leave her - the wound reopened whenever she sent her out on a mission. Theirs was a dangerous line of work, and safety was never guaranteed. 

She knew that her lover was likewise tormented by memories of the battle at Verity. Apple had come _so_ close to death that night - only a combination of her own quick-thinking and sheer dumb luck saved her. Kettle had _believed_ her to be dead for large chunks of the battle - sometimes she’d wake up at night in a cold sweat, and only Apple’s gentle reminders that she was _fine_ and _still here_ would calm her down. 

Still, they’d come through all of that - and only loved one another more. Eighteen years. 

Tonight, they intended to celebrate.

Both of them were aware that they’d been somewhat… indiscrete, in the past. It resulted in a truly _unfortunate_ number of interruptions. They were determined that tonight would be different. They’d arranged for Lily to spend the night with Nona and Arabella in their cell. The toddler loved the two young nuns, and she should - Ancestor willing - be comfortable enough around them if she woke up in the night that she wouldn’t need to come running for her mothers. There was no class full of students awaiting instruction, no upcoming war and no impending disasters. 

Tonight, it was just the two of them - and a securely locked door. 

They’d been together for eighteen years - here’s to eighteen more. 

**Author's Note:**

> hope you liked it! please leave a comment to let me know what you thought.


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